Page 137 of Almost Rotten

“Dude. You’re fucked,” Atty says. “Let me at least take a picture so we can keep track of any changes and make sure you’re not bleeding internally.”

Guilt washes over me. Why didn’t I consider that at the hospital? I should have been more of a pest. I should have insisted Ty show them his ribs. What if he does have internal bleeding? What if there’s tissue or organ damage and he needs surgery?

Tonight, I let him get away with his usual shit. But at what cost?

“He shouldn’t be alone,” I hedge. Looking from Ty to my brother, I gnaw on the edge of my thumbnail.

Atty sighs. “You’re right. Leave his meds on the nightstand. I’ll make sure he takes them.”

“No.” Ty points at me with a limp hand, then pulls it back across his chest.

Atty shakes his head. “No? I’m not one of the nurses or doctors you tricked tonight, man. You’re not fooling me.”

Groaning, Ty forces himself up and slings his legs over the side of the bed, his body slumping to one side. “No. I don’t want you. I want her.”

My heart catches in my throat. Thank god he didn’t drop his favorite “my wife” catchphrase in front of my brother.

Time stands still as my heart and my head war with what to do.

Already, I’m being dragged back into his orbit. No matter how mad I am at this boy, there’s an unbreakable tether between us, keeping us connected. But…

I take a tentative step back. “I have plans tonight. I can bring breakfast in the morning.”

Ty shakes his head, his movements jerky. “No. Stay,” he clips out, those two words dripping with pain. “I just want you, mon ange.”

Brows raised, Atty shoots me a questioning appraisal.

I sigh. “He’s drugged up.”

I leave it at that. No way am I going to explain that his best friend is operating under the delusion that we’re married. Or that he’s been calling me ‘mon ange’ for several years.

“If you don’t mind staying, Sawy,” my brother hedges, “I’m meeting someone and wasn’t planning to make it back here tonight anyway.”

Groaning internally, I side-eye him. “What time will you be back in the morning?”

“I can be home by eight?” he offers, his expression hopeful. “I’ll set my alarm now, and I’ll bring you the biggest, sweetest whipped cream-laden coffee I can find.”

I check my phone. It’s already late, and Mercer hasn’t replied to any of my previous messages.

I’m torn, but I’m also tired.

Tired of trying to placate everyone. Tired of getting it wrong, time and time again.

Considering Mercer hasn’t replied to my texts, it’s unlikely I’ll be able to smooth things over with him tonight, anyway.

“Fine,” I mumble wearily.

Blowing out a long breath, I resign myself to my fate. I’m going to have a lot of groveling to do with Mercer, but these are extenuating circumstances, and Ty looks seconds away from zonking out anyway.

“Have fun,” I say to Atty, my tone at odds with the sentiment.

“Thanks, sis. Text if you need anything, okay?” Grinning, he taps my chin with his knuckles. He stalks back to the bathroom to finish primping, and five minutes later, he’s gone.

As I suspected, Ty dozes off quickly. I confirm he’s breathing evenly, then take advantage of the solace and shoot off another message to Mercer.

Sawyer:I just got back from the hospital with Tytus. I think I’m in for the night. I’m so sorry about earlier, and that our plans had to change. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.

There. The rest of my groveling will have to wait until I see him next.